Intolerance
by Chibi America
Summary: Tolerance can be seductive. UKUS, Consensual caning of a man, and foul language. Was once Chapter 1 of "Shades Of Lust"


**Hello. Anyone who has read "Shades of Lust" by me, this is the same chapter that was there. I've decided to cancel the kink requests till I get a new laptop, and perhaps when I have more motivation. So for now, this can just be a USUK oneshot.**

***********Chibi America*******

~X-X-X~

Warnings: Consensual caning of a man.

~X-X-X~

**I DO NOT OWN HETALIA OR IT'S CHARACTERS! ****(Axis-Powers, World Series, The Beautiful World, The manga, etc.) **Just my own writing. All credit goes to the following:  


**Manga:  
Written by: Hidekaz Himaruya  
Published (Japanese): Gentosha  
Published (English): (Canada, USA) Tokyopop (2010-1011) RightStuf (2012-Present)  
Magazine: Comic Birz  
**

**Anime:  
Manga Credit: Hidekaz Himaruya  
Director: Bob Shirohata  
Licensed: (Australia) Madam Entertainment (Canada, USA) Funimation (United Kingdom) Manga Entertainment**

~X-X-X~

Arthur sat back against his headboard, a sultry smirk faltering at the corner of his lip. It was the dashing smile he remembered making in the olden days, the sweet life when he soared the seven seas, pillaging with a certain recklessness that was the exact opposite of the man he was today. Even so, that didn't mean it wasn't just as daunting as it used to be.

But along with that smirk, there was lust in his eyes. A fire was burning in his mind, screaming at him to get dirty—and _dirty_ he'd be. Because with a glance of his breath-taking emeralds, he saw the innocence he planned on ramming into to fulfill his sex drive. Of course, that was all in good time.

First they were going to_ play_—

His thumb caressed the algid cane in his hands, as if testing it out in his head. He was going to love playing the role of such a heedless deviant. "You look adorable," he purred out magnetically, creating a sonic voice that wrought out electric chords.

The flushed face in the corner was obviously at a disagreement, pulling down the mockingly short shorts with disheveled mannerisms. "I am not..." Alfred mumbled, feeling absolutely petrified at the situation he'd gotten himself into. Well—maybe not _petrified_—albeit nervous, really. However, he wasn't going to let Arthur catch on to his neurotic skittishness. Surly two men could play the same game of wanton conduct.

"Hmm, that could be argued with. Maybe I'll just sit and stare for a while longer—"

"No, I think you've done enough staring." Tired feet danced to and fro, impatient beyond belief. The concept of just _standing_ for a second longer was horrifying in an excruciating way that the American just couldn't fathom. He had forgotten how it felt to be in a corner, now he wished he never had to remember. "Come on, Artie, this isn't funny."

"Maybe not to you. I'm finding it to to be quite a show." The smirk never left Arthur's lips as he came up behind his plaything, wrapping his arms around the other's waist. "I'll have to punish you for being so damn attractive."

"If that's what floats your boat, bro. I didn't get into this tight ass outfit for nothing so pick up the pace." Alfred retorted, gesturing to the revealing attire that was fitting for a school boy—a school boy much shorter for that matter.

Arthur snapped, "Don't make me have you stand here longer. I can wait all damn night if we have to."

An obviously annoyed groan was emitted, though the sound was in shaken agreement. "Fine, hard ass."

As if a contract had been affirmed, the air in the room turned thick—perhaps due to their toxic secrets, or maybe just the weight of their charismatic energy. Either way, it was about as refreshing as standing in a desert with no water, yet felt as if all the needs in the world were being met by a single touch. "Brilliant, then lets begin, shall we?"

"Augh, finally."

Arthur only chuckled. He truly was a casanova on the inside, no matter how much he felt that title was saved for perverted, philandering French frogs. His thumbs whisked over the flexible item in his hand, pawing at the slender rattan. "I never had you suffer the wrath of a cane as a boy, now did I? How do you feel about changing that?"

"I feel like you have a weird obsession with my ass. Then again, yours isn't exactly avoidable either." Alfred replied curtly, his countenance coy and subtle. He loved riling the Briton up. It was both hilarious and satisfying.

Alfred had proven to be quite the masochist while being with the British nation; sealing his fate wasn't something new to him. He'd toy with the man, wanting and craving to be abused. Simply in his nature. It only took so many wars, so many wounds and so many gun shots before someone was dulled by the pain. He was stronger than Arthur physically—much, _much_ stronger—but his mental barrier was so much _weaker_. It was like a rubber running over a pencil mark over and over, never finding reprieve in making the mark go away.

"Well, then I think it's about time you met my favourite implement, dear. It's not used much nowadays. Considered child abuse in Great Britain. Now parents send their adolescence off the boarding schools to cure their misdeeds. But I think it'll work just fine on you, don't you agree?"

The reply was blunt and so sarcastic it was hardly real, "I'll think up on it."

"Sorry, you don't have time to think up on much of anything. Not tonight, love." Arthur told the American pertly, mirth trickling with every word. Alfred's wrist was then seized in a none too gentle grip, being pulled forcefully behind his back. Soon the Englishman was bending the taller man over the king sized bed.

"Just like you to react with violence, huh, Artie?" Alfred laughed and gazed forward as he was pushed down against the mattress. His sight was set on the forest green wall of the bedroom, his own twisted grin plastered upon his face. "You never were one to settle things peacefully."

"I suppose I wasn't. We all have our flaws." Arthur pressed his body against Alfred's, whispering softly into his ear. His actions weren't at all chary, having no regards to personal space. But wasn't that the object of love? To go the distance?

Alfred decided to test his luck with a snarky comeback, "And some of us have more than others."

"It appears you need to be chastised more than I originally thought. Can't you be a good boy?"

"Nope. Never," Alfred snickered, "what'cha gonna do about it, spank me?"

Arthur lifted his body up and stood behind the blond, posing as if in thought. "I'm sure you'd like that. You're too predictable, Alfred. So much bark but hardly any bite to back it all up. You're just too nice, lad."

"Hey, at least I don't go around acting like everyone's against me." At the remark, Alfred found himself without any clothes waist down. At least he didn't have those impractical shorts rubbing against his balls anymore.

"I think halting your chatter would be a relatively wise idea," Arthur said in such a sing-song voice, it didn't even seem threatening, "let's just get on with this. I'm done stalling. This isn't even a proper position, really. It would be difficult to rest on your elbows, palms flat against such a soft surface." He examined Alfred's posterior for a long moment before giving a shrug, "I suppose it'll just have to do, I've wanted to carry this out for quite some time, love."

This time, Alfred was dead silent as he heard the swish of the cane behind him. Just a few practice strokes to the air, he noticed. He had experienced many sexually-induced pains before, many variants of bondage and general BDSM weren't unknown to their relationship. However, the sound of the implement merely slicing the air was spine tingling and it did in fact cause him to quiver. Alfred knew this was going to be a rather interesting experience on both of their parts.

Before he could even flinch, the first strike came lightning-fast. The cane indented his flesh when it struck, right across the middle of the entirety of his ass. It was quick to raise a reddish welt at once. At first Alfred felt little more than the pressure of the impact, but instants later a harsh, burning pain came flooding across his rear. It was a _whole world_ away from the imprint left by a crop or even one's open palm.

He was tempted to stand up and alleviate the pain that had burst with only a single strike, but knew better. All he emitted was a sharp, crisp hiss and the flinching buck on his left leg.

"Ah, something that _finally_ smarts such a strong man," Arthur snickered, taking empathy upon the other. He himself knew exactly what the merciless instrument felt like when taken vengeance upon the flesh. It was certainly no joke, nonetheless fun to play with. Though, odd enough, usually it took more than a single stroke to get Alfred wiggling around. This was going to be just too enjoyable to toy with.

Alfred truly was speechless. Arthur's voice was so erotic. He seemed to be speaking in such a way that was ultimately seducing and painstakingly attractive. It was an unfortunate turn-on—_Oh God._

—He managed to utter a gasp when the cane struck against his ass a second time, then a third..."Ah—" The American let out a light gasp. His pain tolerance was high but this was testing his limits. The rattan lit angry lines of fire across his skin, not relenting or holding back.

Arthur had to be doing this on purpose. Behind him, Alfred heard the provocative—_swish, crack!—_of the cane as it made scorching contact over and over again. It was almost like a crack of lightening, repetitively booming in the sky. The Briton knew it was getting to him and dubiously so; so did Alfred.

Eight of the best came rapidly, mere seconds between the rampaging welts. From Arthur's view, first came a white strip that turned instantly into a rising pink burn on the flesh. By the end, Alfred had tears in his eyes, drooling sloppily onto the bedspread.

"How do you _feel_, love?" Arthur coaxed, putting emphasis on his statement and drawing out his words with a discernible purr. He crawled atop the bed, cupping Alfred's cheeks in his hands, running his thumbs smoothly across the temples of his beloved.

Alfred did the one thing he thought would eat at the Englishman; he pouted. He stuck out his bottom lip in such a way that made him appear completely naive, as if he was too sweet to be approached brashly. Obviously he was done acting like he was full of spit-fire. The competition to be the superlative "bad boy" was out of his system and he simply wanted to be nurtured. To just be.

"Aw, come on, dear. Don't pull that face on me." Arthur squished Alfred's face like it was putty, kissing his forehead softly in an attempt to make the sad face go away. He couldn't stand it when the man gave him that look.

"Meanie." Alfred muttered pitifully, hoping to get some comfort. Not that he needed it...but inside he was just a big fluff-ball and wanted to cuddle. Especially now that his backside was flaring. "You beat me," he put with sincerity. It had hurt quite a bit—not quite excruciating—but certainly an eternity away from being plain sailing. And it wasn't like he was going to pass up getting some attention.

_Cute._

Arthur let a chuckle escape his throat, one that wasn't nearly as full of flames as earlier. "And you deserved it, you sodding git. You've been such a disrespectful man as of late." He flaunted a soft smirk and wrapped his arms around the other, hauling him onto the bed fully.

Alfred of course took that as his cue to give Arthur a quick kiss, nipping him on the lips playfully. "Nope. You're still a meanie."

"Really?"

"No."

Arthur rolled his eyes and collapsed onto his side, bringing the cocky American along with him. "Make up your bloody mind."

Alfred laughed and formed a content smile as he snuggled against his lover. The brigade of feisty ambition was put to termination as he entwined their legs together lovingly. "I think I have. You're kind of a meanie."

The Briton furrowed his brow, "Kind of?"

"Yup, but you can be my meanie." Alfred curled his arms around Arthur protectively, burying his face into his neck.

Arthur watched as the younger power fell asleep, combing his fingers through his hair. Yes, he quite liked the sound of that. _Mine._ Lovely. He pressed his lips to the top of Alfred's head as he was put into a trance by his narrow, patterned breaths. "Good night, Alfred..." he paused, "—I love you..._always_."

~X-X-X~

**I had fun writing this! I'm sorry I made it so fluffy at the end, if you guys wanted it to continue being charismatic and snarky. ^^**

*******Chibi America*******


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